Madly Yours (Nora Reed) novel Chapter 442

Arthur completely ignored his brother's protests, fishing his own room card from his pocket and tossing it at Archer's chest. "Then you go sleep in my room."

"..."

...

Meanwhile, Hudson entered his suite, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the sofa before heading straight for the bathroom.

Under the steaming hot spray, the bathroom quickly filled with a thick haze. He stood beneath the showerhead with his eyes closed, letting the scalding water beat against his shoulders.

All he could think about was Nora.

He had promised to call her, but at this hour, she was undoubtedly asleep. He didn't want to wake her. Yet, the longing swelled like a tidal wave in the dead of night. He had grown so accustomed to holding her soft, sweet-smelling body every night; sleeping in a sprawling hotel suite alone felt unbearably cold.

Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked over to the bed, picking up his phone from the nightstand.

It was almost one in the morning.

The bed was massive, the sheets luxurious, but without that little woman curled up beside him, the space felt overwhelmingly empty. No matter how he tossed and turned, he couldn't get comfortable.

Giving up on sleep, he walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Gazing out at the glittering lights of Northampton, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, clamped it between his lips, and sparked a lighter.

The smoke curled upward, blurring the sharp, predatory lines of his profile. He tapped the ash against the glass, suddenly feeling a bit ridiculous. The untouchable Hudson Lancaster, a man who commanded empires in San Francisco, was currently suffering from insomnia because he missed his wife. No one would ever believe it.

But he missed her. He missed her so much his chest physically ached, a suffocating wave of longing that twisted his insides.

He took a deep drag and slowly exhaled, watching the smoke dissipate against the cold glass.

Just one more day. He reminded himself. They were flying back to San Francisco the day after tomorrow. He would see her soon.

...

He waited. No answer.

He knocked three more times, a little louder.

Finally, there was movement inside—the muffled, sluggish shuffling of feet. The door clicked open to reveal Archer, eyes half-closed, practically sleepwalking. He yawned, rubbing his eyes as he looked at the man standing in the hallway.

The moment he met those cold, piercing dark eyes, Archer's soul nearly leaped out of his body.

"B-Boss?!"

His voice cracked violently as he stumbled backward, slamming his shoulder into the doorframe. He didn't even register the pain. Only one terrifying thought looped in his mind:

I'm dead. I'm so dead.